Send Me a Virgin
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
19
Views:
34,420
Reviews:
85
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
19
Views:
34,420
Reviews:
85
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Suspicion of Indecency
Chapter 8: A Suspicion of Indecency
As prestigious as Hogwarts was, it thrived on gossip and rumors. And on that dull winter day, Friday to be exact, gossip was traveling in select circles about Hermione Granger. This particular piece of gossip was initiated by Ginny who swore her friend Alice to secrecy. However, Alice promptly told her best friend. Even if Alice did not say a word, Peeves the ever-meddling ghost heard the whisperings and repeated it to a few portraits in Slytherin house. It was all downhill from there.
Because some people were embarrassed to talk about the details it did not get as far and wide as other tidbits, but the damage had been done. Meanwhile, in the staff circles, suspicions about Professor Snape and Miss Granger were reluctantly being bantered about only because Mr. Filch insisted that “something was afoot”.
Professors McGonagall and Spout discussed it at morning tea:
“And he gave her detention,” whispered Professor Sprout.
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow. “Detention? Why Miss Granger has never received detention that I can recall.”
“Exactly,” returned Professor Sprout in her girlish voice. “And then Mr. Filch…”
+ + +
Outside the castle, Harry and Ron were pouring over their Defense Against the Dart Arts homework but the conversation soon turned to what they were hearing about Hermione.
“I hope it isn’t true,” fretted Ron.
“Probably just some spiteful gossip because they all know she’s much better than them,” said Harry.
“But to have seen it…” Ron said with a voice tinged with awe.
“Ron!” admonished Harry. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry, but you know how I feel…”
It was no secret that Ron’s crush on Hermione was building. It drove Harry crazy and sometimes he wished for graduation so they could all go their own ways and stop all this nonsense about who was going out with who. He liked Ginny and Ron liked Hermione but neither one of them could act upon it. And before they knew it, school would be over.
What disturbed Harry were the whisperings about Snape and Hermione seen leaving the girls’ lavatory. That couldn’t have been true. No doubt Filch was being spiteful.
“I think you should talk to her,” ventured Ron.
“Me? Why me?”
“Because she’ll listen to you, she always has.”
“I don’t know…”
+ + +
In her own little world Hermione was impervious to the rumors that swirled around her. She walked as if still asleep up and down the staircases and along the corridors of Hogwarts. She was blind to the other students (the ones in the know) as they gaped at her or whispered. Her entire being was now centered on seducing Harry. She knew intrinsically that it must be done. And then after that she must be dealt with by Professor Snape, whatever that meant.
+ + +
And in the bowels of the castle, in the dungeon that housed the Potions Master, the last class of the day was about to commence. It was a Double Potions, seemingly sadistic for a Friday afternoon, but Professor Snape couldn’t be more anxious to get it underway.
He wasn’t immune to the looks the staff was giving him but he summarily ignored them. He never gave much thought to their accusations before, why should he start now? Besides he had no idea what he had done this time. All he knew that in just a little over twenty-four hours from now he would be putting into motion the last piece of his mission and rather enjoying himself while doing it.
The students were bordering on unruly as they entered the room and took their seats. He scowled at a few of them, especially Potter and Weasley who always seemed to whispering about something. Only after they were all seated did he notice the sly looks that Miss Granger was receiving. As for herself, she was oblivious as she sat there, eyes downcast submissively and hands on her lap.
He cleared some disturbing visions away from the forefront of his mind.
“Settle down, students,” he said impatiently. “We have a long session in front of us.” And as soon as he said that he pictured Miss Granger’s body stretched out before him in what would be a very long session. He quickly wiped it away. He would need to keep his concentration.
During the first part of the class he lectured on the finer points of poisons. Even Snape knew it was dry stuff, but it was important. Their very lives could depend on it. He only hoped they were absorbing it all because the next part of class would focus on the antidotes.
While he talked, he stole glances at Miss Granger. At the beginning of class she seemed more focused and her hand shot up as usual for each question. But by the time they were nearing break, she was losing her concentration again. He indulged himself in a vision of her “relieving” herself during break and idly wondered if he could follow her, but knew he could not. Last time that bloody Filch saw him striding down the corridor, black robes swishing, the sound of the girl’s lavatory door closing with a loud ‘click’ in the silent halls.
He would have to wait, but that did not bother him. He was used to waiting. Instead he stole his glances and bided his time.
As prestigious as Hogwarts was, it thrived on gossip and rumors. And on that dull winter day, Friday to be exact, gossip was traveling in select circles about Hermione Granger. This particular piece of gossip was initiated by Ginny who swore her friend Alice to secrecy. However, Alice promptly told her best friend. Even if Alice did not say a word, Peeves the ever-meddling ghost heard the whisperings and repeated it to a few portraits in Slytherin house. It was all downhill from there.
Because some people were embarrassed to talk about the details it did not get as far and wide as other tidbits, but the damage had been done. Meanwhile, in the staff circles, suspicions about Professor Snape and Miss Granger were reluctantly being bantered about only because Mr. Filch insisted that “something was afoot”.
Professors McGonagall and Spout discussed it at morning tea:
“And he gave her detention,” whispered Professor Sprout.
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow. “Detention? Why Miss Granger has never received detention that I can recall.”
“Exactly,” returned Professor Sprout in her girlish voice. “And then Mr. Filch…”
+ + +
Outside the castle, Harry and Ron were pouring over their Defense Against the Dart Arts homework but the conversation soon turned to what they were hearing about Hermione.
“I hope it isn’t true,” fretted Ron.
“Probably just some spiteful gossip because they all know she’s much better than them,” said Harry.
“But to have seen it…” Ron said with a voice tinged with awe.
“Ron!” admonished Harry. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry, but you know how I feel…”
It was no secret that Ron’s crush on Hermione was building. It drove Harry crazy and sometimes he wished for graduation so they could all go their own ways and stop all this nonsense about who was going out with who. He liked Ginny and Ron liked Hermione but neither one of them could act upon it. And before they knew it, school would be over.
What disturbed Harry were the whisperings about Snape and Hermione seen leaving the girls’ lavatory. That couldn’t have been true. No doubt Filch was being spiteful.
“I think you should talk to her,” ventured Ron.
“Me? Why me?”
“Because she’ll listen to you, she always has.”
“I don’t know…”
+ + +
In her own little world Hermione was impervious to the rumors that swirled around her. She walked as if still asleep up and down the staircases and along the corridors of Hogwarts. She was blind to the other students (the ones in the know) as they gaped at her or whispered. Her entire being was now centered on seducing Harry. She knew intrinsically that it must be done. And then after that she must be dealt with by Professor Snape, whatever that meant.
+ + +
And in the bowels of the castle, in the dungeon that housed the Potions Master, the last class of the day was about to commence. It was a Double Potions, seemingly sadistic for a Friday afternoon, but Professor Snape couldn’t be more anxious to get it underway.
He wasn’t immune to the looks the staff was giving him but he summarily ignored them. He never gave much thought to their accusations before, why should he start now? Besides he had no idea what he had done this time. All he knew that in just a little over twenty-four hours from now he would be putting into motion the last piece of his mission and rather enjoying himself while doing it.
The students were bordering on unruly as they entered the room and took their seats. He scowled at a few of them, especially Potter and Weasley who always seemed to whispering about something. Only after they were all seated did he notice the sly looks that Miss Granger was receiving. As for herself, she was oblivious as she sat there, eyes downcast submissively and hands on her lap.
He cleared some disturbing visions away from the forefront of his mind.
“Settle down, students,” he said impatiently. “We have a long session in front of us.” And as soon as he said that he pictured Miss Granger’s body stretched out before him in what would be a very long session. He quickly wiped it away. He would need to keep his concentration.
During the first part of the class he lectured on the finer points of poisons. Even Snape knew it was dry stuff, but it was important. Their very lives could depend on it. He only hoped they were absorbing it all because the next part of class would focus on the antidotes.
While he talked, he stole glances at Miss Granger. At the beginning of class she seemed more focused and her hand shot up as usual for each question. But by the time they were nearing break, she was losing her concentration again. He indulged himself in a vision of her “relieving” herself during break and idly wondered if he could follow her, but knew he could not. Last time that bloody Filch saw him striding down the corridor, black robes swishing, the sound of the girl’s lavatory door closing with a loud ‘click’ in the silent halls.
He would have to wait, but that did not bother him. He was used to waiting. Instead he stole his glances and bided his time.